


And a Bottle of Rum

by broodywolf



Series: Fenhawke Week Fics [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:10:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4433258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broodywolf/pseuds/broodywolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I can't imagine what Hawke sees in you."</p>
<p>Hawke tries to comfort Fenris after Anders is an ass. Originally posted on Tumblr for Fenhawke week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And a Bottle of Rum

“Another round for our table please, Corff,” Hawke said, turning and leaning back with her elbows on the bar while Corff busied himself pouring ale. Maker, she needed a drink. Or twenty. It was their first Wicked Grace night at the Hanged Man since that night that she was oh so pointedly trying (and, thus far, failing) not to think about. She had been late, had lingered pointlessly at home before biting the bullet and making her way to the tavern. As unpleasant as this would be, there was no way she was going to deal with the questions her friends would undoubtedly pepper her with if she was absent. 

At any rate, there was no way she could face this, no way she could sit next to him and pretend that everything was normal, that everything was okay, while sober. And her friends were much too set in their ways for her to claim a different seat without incident. So, here she was, waiting for drinks while her friends chatted amicably around their usual table. With the exception of Fenris, who sat, elbows resting on the table, gazing blankly ahead. Brooding, Varric would say. And, she noticed now, Anders, whose scrutinizing gaze was fixed on Fenris. Shit. She did not feel like dealing with another of their shouting matches about mages right now. She began to step forward to preempt the fight she knew was coming, but when Anders leaned forward to speak, though, shock halted her progress. 

“I can’t imagine what Hawke sees in you.” 

Her heart clenched painfully, but she forced herself to turn back towards the bar, denying the urge to punch Anders in his smug face for bringing this up right now. Even now, her instinct was to jump to Fenris’s defense, the impulse to protect him from pain seemingly undeterred by what had happened between them.

 She risked a glance behind her; everyone had stilled, looking anxiously between Fenris and Anders. She could see Fenris’s jaw clench, his hands curling into tight fists.

 “It is done. Leave it be.” His voice was so low it barely carried over to where she stood at the bar, so maybe she imagined the tremor she heard in it. 

“Well, good. I always knew she had some sense.” 

Now it was Hawke’s turn to clench her hands into fists. Sense would be punching your stupid face in, you blighted bastard. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to turn back towards the bar once more. The silence from their table was so complete, she thought Fenris had simply left. It wouldn’t exactly be out of character, she thought bitterly. But then-

 “Do not make light of this. Leaving was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

 Hawke’s eyes shot back towards their table. Fenris was fixing Anders with a glare usually reserved for slavers and blood mages. In the dim light of the tavern, she could see the lyrium wrapped around his still-closed fists glimmering softly.

 Corff approached with their drinks, and she steeled herself before grabbing them to return to the table.

 “Drink up, I want all of you good and smashed so I can win all your coin,” she stated with a weak attempt at a winning smile, dropping the mugs of ale on the table for her friends to claim. There was no way anyone realistically believed she hadn’t been able to hear everything, but mercifully no one opted to call her on it as she feigned obliviousness.

 Unsurprisingly, Hawke did not end up winning much that night, distracted as she was. She supposed she should be glad she’d managed not to _lose_ coin, but her mind was on other things. Fenris had been quiet all night after the heated exchange with Anders. Well, Fenris was often quiet when the whole group gathered, so it would probably be more accurate to say that he had not spoken a single word all night unless asked a direct question, and then he would stick to monosyllables. As soon as they’d called it a night, the luckier members of the group contentedly beginning to count their coin, Fenris had stood abruptly from the table, slipping across the slowly emptying tavern and out the door before Hawke could say a word. She gathered her meager winnings and exchanged good nights with the rest of the group before following. She knew better than to try to catch up with Fenris in some Lowtown alley when he wasn’t expecting to be followed, so she made her way back towards Hightown. She paused at the door to the mansion Fenris had claimed. Against her better judgment perhaps, she slipped inside.

 “Fenris?”

 She hadn’t really expected a reply, and she didn’t get one. She followed the flickering light to the back room Fenris most often occupied. He stood facing away from her, arms crossed, seemingly staring into the fire that served as the only source of light in the room. Hawke approached him slowly, stopping several feet away.

 “Fen?”

 He still didn’t answer, but the way his fingers clenched over his bicep told her he’d heard.

 “I’m sorry. About Anders.” Hawke fidgeted nervously, staring pointlessly at her feet. “Whatever… happened, between us, he had no right to say what he did.”

 More silence. Hawke lingered for a few moments, before deciding she was unlikely to receive any response from him and turning to leave. She had almost reached the door when he finally spoke.

 “He was right,” Fenris murmured, so low Hawke couldn’t be sure he’d even intended for her to hear. “You deserve better than the likes of me.”

 “I wish you would let me decide that,” she answered, just as softly. She risked another step towards him. Fenris tensed, standing completely frozen for a moment before whirling on her.

 “Just go,” he spat. “I… don’t want you here.” His eyes dropped to the floor, avoiding her gaze completely as he said this.

 Hawke gaped at his outburst in shock, then turned and ran from the room before he could look up and notice the tears welling in her eyes. She made it as far as the small alcove outside the mansion before collapsing against the door. Why did everything in her life have to get fucked up? Nothing was ever simple with her. So of course, just when she thought she had found something good… well. This happened. As Varric was so fond of saying: well, shit.

 When she felt that leaving the privacy of the shadows outside Fenris’s mansion was no longer likely to result in Aveline’s guards having to peel a drunken, crying Hawke off of some Hightown street, she made her way slowly back to the estate, drying her face on her sleeve. The foyer, thankfully, was empty, everyone else having already gone to bed. She took the stairs to her room two at a time, desperate to reach the safety and solitude of her room and lock the bloody door. She didn’t know if she could deal with any more human interaction tonight, if civil conversation was something she would even be capable of at this point. At long last she crossed the threshold of her room, shutting the door behind her and leaning momentarily against it, eyes falling shut in relief.

 After another moment like that she crossed the room to her desk, where she kept her stash of the spiced rum Isabela had introduced her to. She started to pour herself a glass, but then thought better of it and grabbed the whole bottle before going to collapse in her chair. Someone- Orana, probably, or maybe Bodahn- had a fire going in her grate. She stared into the dancing flames as she took a deep swig from the bottle, relishing the burn as if it might chase away the miserable night she’d had. Varric, she was sure, would be able make some joke about her and Fenris both brooding at their respective fires, but she couldn’t see any humor in it just now. Couldn’t see much humor in any of this crap.

 Maybe it would be easier if she could be properly angry about it, but as hurt as she was right now she still couldn’t find it in herself to hold any of this against Fenris. Everything had just gotten so fucked up. She could only hope that the rum would somehow help. Hawke had never been much for hard liquor, but when she had stumbled into the Hanged Man after that night, Isabela had taken one look at her and shoved a bottle of rum into her hand. “Is rum your solution to everything?” Hawke had asked. “Well, it certainly doesn’t hurt,” Isabela had replied with a somewhat humorless smirk. So, she tipped the bottle up once more, trying desperately not to be reminded of Fenris angrily swigging from bottles pilfered from Danarius’s costly wine collection. Isabela was right about one thing, she thought, it certainly can’t hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> Quote at the end completely stolen from Once Upon a Time, but it totally works with Isabela and I couldn't resist. 
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr: broodywolf.tumblr.com :)


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